


freudian slip

by ficfucker



Series: seduction through true crime - a dogtruth collection [5]
Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: (i mean i guess?), Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 15:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20176594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: ben says something he doesn't mean to say on stream





	freudian slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zwtfmate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwtfmate/gifts).

> for Zwtfmate who commented: 
> 
> ALSO idk if this is too mushy but on my tumblr I posted: Dogtruth where they've been dating for a bit and in the middle of live stream Ben and Marcus get into a disagreement and Ben accidentally calls Marcus "babe" or "baby" to placate him without realizing he's live calling his bf pet names

“I have to say, Nevermind is Nirvana’s best album,” Ben says, looking down at his phone. 

Immediately, Henry shouts, “Oh, are you fuckin’  _ kiddin’ _ me, Kissel?” while Marcus groans and says, “Oh, god,  _ no _ .”

“What?  _ What _ ?” Ben asks, looking up, eyebrows rocketed to his hairline. 

Marcus is shaking his head, his face half covered by a hand propped up on their table. “ _ Nevermind _ ? It was their most - it was so… studio! Kurt  _ hated _ it. Hated it!” 

“Well, it- the studio was good for them! All the songs off Nevermind were hits!” Ben argues, putting his palms up and looking into the camera, smiling smally. 

“Have you even  _ heard _ anything off Bleach? It’s so raw! Grunge was  _ not _ meant to be put into the mainstream like that, it was supposed to be - there needs to be more street emotion behind it than just-”

Interrupting, Ben says, “ Okay, so I’ll say this: the  _ studio… _ made them better!” 

Through the headphones, Henry asks, “Oh, so you’re  _ Capitalist _ Kissel now? You want the fuckin’ man stormin’ into our studio and-and stickin’ their fingers in our pie and tellin’ us we gotta go to some big fancy studio with the fuckin’ -”

“I’m not saying that! Henry, come on-”

Marcus huffs and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ Nevermind. I can’t believe you, man, going against all the rules of grunge.”

Ben turns his head to Marcus but has his phone in his hands again, looking at chat as it sputters opinions on Seattle in the 90s and Kurt Cobain’s best works, and absently says, “Babe, it’s  _ not _ that big of a deal, I was just-”

“ _ Babe _ ? Kissel, did you say-?” Henry bursts, eyes wide, looking up over his laptop into the camera to stare intensely at Marcus and Ben, his face already cracking into a giant smile. 

“Bro…! I meant  _ bro _ !” Ben sputters, waving his arms around. 

Marcus goes red all the way to his ears, makes brief, panicked eye contact with Travis whose face is near unreadable from where he stands, and he shuffles back in his chair, puts a hand over his mouth as he giggles and wheezes because he cannot believe it. Of all ways for it to be known, of course it’s Ben slipping up while live. 

Henry is out of his chair, doing a dance, thick body jiggling from under his shirt as he stomps and sways, fists punching the air, his headset off. “I fuckin’ knew it, boys! I knew they was fuckin’!” he yells. He bends halfway over to squint at his laptop. “Chat. Holy shit. Chat, did you goddamn hear them?” 

“I didn’t mean to say…” Ben’s voice is embarrassed and defeated and he can’t seem to look up, eyes still trained down at the chat as it absolutely floods with comments, most smashed in all caps, someone spamming “DOGTRUTH IS REAL” over and over, while others send Marcus and Ben emojis bracketed by fat, pink hearts. 

“Cat’s outta the bag,” Marcus says softly, laying a hand to Ben’s shoulder and giving him a pat like it’s the end of a football game and their team has lost horribly despite their best efforts. It was bound to happen, and they’d talked a few nights ago about telling Henry, maybe Jackie and Holden, too. Sneaking around was getting stale and things were starting to get more serious than just fucking, Marcus spending the night with Ben more often than not these days, the petnames less uncharted waters. 

Henry plops down in his chair, nearly tipping himself sideways. “That was like - that was for real, right? That wasn’t ike, a Freudian slip because you just want Dogmeat to get up in between those thighs?”

Ben sighs. “It… We’ve been-”

Marcus threads his fingers through Ben’s under the table and raises their hands up so it can be seen on stream and says, “We’re  _ involved _ ,” with a tip of his head.

Henry claps his hands over his chest like a trained seal, gives a whoop. “Oh my god. We’ve got some  _ DogTruth _ goin’ on!” He slams both palms down on his table, points a finger at the camera. “I  _ knew _ that hickey wasn’t from a hookup - the-the one Ben was sporting like, a week ago, that big ole purple paintball  _ splatter _ . No slut in New York would be suckin’ on Kissel like that other than our fuckin’ boy - Marcus Parks.” 

Marcus wheezes, rolls his eyes, and gives Ben a squeeze under the table, fingers still knotted together. 

“Yeah, well, I think that’s enough on our  _ personal _ lives for the night, we can move on from this talk and if you’re really that curious-” 

“Chat wants to know who tops.”

Marcus chokes on his La Croix, busts out a keening cackle once he’s done snorting and gasping. “That’s up to the  _ imagination _ of the viewer, I suppose.” 

Henry laughs, adjusts his mic. “I bet - Marcus, you’ve got them loooong legs. I could picture you struttin’ around Ben’s place in fishnets, lookin’ over your shoulder at him with those blue eyes like it’s an 1896 French whore house. Bein’ like ‘Oh, Mr. Kissel, won’t you treat me to your-’”

“Okay, Henry, that’s enough, we have a stream to continue here,” Ben cuts in. He looks exhausted, amused, and nervous all at once, lips twitching into a smile that drops within the second it appears, eyes darting away, never landing on Travis. 

“Yeah! And uh, if you haven’t  _ noticed _ , stream has turned into a fuckin’ Q and A on you and Parks over there since you just dropped  _ that _ bombshell.” 

“Can’t we end this early?” Ben gripes, blowing air out of his mouth.

“Oh, it’s not  _ that _ bad,” Marcus says, shrugging, and he unlocks his phone to watch chat, a rainbow of usernames flying by with cheers and questions, a few “hail dogtruth!!!”s thrown in. 

“This is torture,” Ben whispers in a hiss.

Marcus waves his free hand, leaning over the table as he watches comments filter through. “You’re bein’ a baby.” 

“Y’all already argue like a goddamn ball and chain couple, Jesus Christ,” Henry says, shaking his head, still grinning ear to ear. “Okay, we’ve got - there’s a whole mess of questions to get through here.” 

Marcus sips his La Croix and shoots up a single finger gun. “Let’s get ‘em over with now then. I’m sure we’ll be dealing with them for a while so, best to get them now and have it out of the way.” 

Ben sighs and his shoulders sag. “Okay, let’s get through this, I guess.” 

**Author's Note:**

> got another fic aleady 1k words in so if you don't see me post soon, yell at me to 
> 
> hit me with kudos/comments/suggestions if you enjoyed, crucify me if you didn't
> 
> find me on tmblr @ficfucker


End file.
